


Displaced

by The_Lowlifes_Back



Series: No More Regrets Universe [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, No More Regrets - Companion Piece, One Shot, One-Sided Relationship, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 10:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12479752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lowlifes_Back/pseuds/The_Lowlifes_Back
Summary: This takes place on the Lone Wanderer’s 17th birthday. What happened between Butch and Susie when they were young? This is what their relationship was in the timeline before "No More Regrets" takes place.Christine had no right to act like she knew what hell she lived.-‘...you won’t show your pain…not a lick of it.’Christine truly was looking out for her… in a twisted sense.-She called her a slut so easily.Christine must have known the sad truth of her life already, however.-That she would be ruined, if anyone thought it was Stevie, who left the marks...…Stevie’s bruises- her brother’s hands instead of…-It hurts to think of Butch right now. It makes her feel sick.She knows already…that Butch knows about her and Stevie.-He sees the bruises on her skin.Sometimes, he’s on the verge of asking her about it- the bruises.-But he knows already.That’s why he doesn’t ask.Maybe it’s the beer or the pain of the day, but that night...Butch was the cure for it all. That night, he was everything that she needed....and what she’d needed, was to forget.





	Displaced

She had to find Butch.

That was her one clear thought through the pain, as she wandered the hallways.

That Blonde Bitch’s party was today, but she just walked right by it and didn’t even care to look inside.

They didn’t know each other, but what Susie did know, was that Blackwell…didn’t know her place.

She searched the stairs outside of the reactor and came up dry, keeping a blank face at the people looking her way as she went.

People always saw whatever they wanted to see. Right now, her mind was gone and all she wanted, was to not have to look at herself. She just wanted to find Butch, forget herself. She wanted her appearance to reflect coldness and grace. She wanted the bruises gone, before more people got the wrong idea.

 

It was as she was passing the clinic, when she came to her senses. She’s not even sure how she got there. She’d been there enough, for her body to retreat there automatically, it seemed. Like a radroach back to its hole. She may not be well, but she could erase the proof of that.

 

…She got shot up with a Stimpack by Doctor James a few hours ago. She walked in her front door mechanically and felt a spike of hatred, as she went through it. She thought to poison him, the minute he came home. Her eyes had looked to the radroach poison under the sink in her bathroom. She thought about how she’d do it… and came up with a plan to put it in his coffee.

A dream. An easy out. Freedom. Redemption! If only he was dead…

…it was a fantasy she couldn’t attempt…not because of fear…but because he would know. Her brother would find out, because he was paranoid… he drank his coffee black anyway. Then at that, another thought hit her…maybe she should just drink it down herself. She’s standing at the bathroom mirror in a clean vault suit. Her strawberry blonde hair let down, after showering and planning to burn the vault suit which he’d… ruined.

Christine truly was looking out for her… in a twisted sense. She called her a slut so easily, when Christine must have known the sad truth of her life already. That the only way she’d get a husband now, is if people thought she was a great time- if the men thought her a useful commodity. …it was too late to play the doe eyed virgin and that was never her to really begin with. Christine knew though… the bitch knew.

She would be ruined, if anyone thought it was Stevie, who left the marks.

…Stevie’s bruises- her brother’s hands instead of…

…she’s disgusted with herself.

The rage comes from nowhere and she sees red, which matches the tint of her hair. She screams bloody murder, all alone in her house, all the while longing for his death to be bloody- planning, begging, wishing and praying for it. But in her world there is no God…only Stevie’s chokehold on her mind and his fingerprints on her skin. She lands a fist against the glass. There’s no tears hidden behind the blow.

Just her own pain and self-destruction.

There’s no weakness… just the almost euphoric thought of one day getting even. The twisted thoughts racing through her mind, all force through her chest at once. Murderous intent that just seems to get her on the verge of snapping. She’s spiraling, looking at a broken image in the mirror, of a broken girl, who’s refusing to believe she’s made of glass. She hates him…she hates him…she hates…

…she hates waking up and seeing the bruises on her skin in the morning.

No one even questions them on her body at breakfast. She winces lightly, teeth gritted. Her family keeps to themselves and that includes keeping their own secrets from each other. The Mack’s, do a very good job at putting on the perfect face of a nuclear family. Her family is also very good at making things go away… like people.

She’s got a headache and now their guest bathroom mirror’s cracked…she’ll blame it on Wally. He’s too scared of her not to take the fall. Ever since she broke his pinkie, he’d learned not to fuck with her. It’s what he got for cutting up her favorite book… Macks always give worse than they get.

She checks the time on her Pipboy absently.

It’s 8… and she’s not going to wait for her family to come home at 9, she decides. Another stale dinner, with everyone hiding their dysfunction through tough Salisberry Steak, would be too much tonight. She wanted to forget how tough his skin tasted earlier…when she bit his tongue and made him bleed. She shivers and shakes her head violently, clutching her head in her hands. Tangling her hair in her fingers, wanting to forget the memory as fast as it wormed it’s way inside of her.

‘ _...you won’t show your pain…not a lick of it.’_

Christine’s words haunt her. She scoffs at herself. “Oh, big-fucking-deal. Talk down to me like you know what it’s like…” She may not be very nice, but at least she knows how to get by. Christine had no right to act like she knew what hell she lived. Talking about big fucking deals… _‘-Geez, can’t keep your hands off me, huh Suz? Hey, don’t pout baby…I’m just…savoring the chase! Butch-man don’t bluff! You believe me don’t you?’_

Her heart flutters in a…familiar way. It hurts to think of Butch right now. It makes her feel sick. She’s thinking back to when Butch last kissed her, how sloppy yet soft it had been. She forces the image of him over Stevie’s…and feels bile in her throat.

She still…didn’t find him today, no matter where she’d looked.

She always puts her hair up before leaving the house…that night she’d forgotten.

She’s not sure when she made the decision, but she’s out in front of her home and walking to the Deloria’s, without much thought at all. Sometimes she felt like she was walking in a fog. One moment away from snapping. One booby-trapped desk away from actually killing someone. She knows when she becomes the vault’s teacher that she’ll have a lot to share.

She knows one day she’ll marry and be able to be free of her brother. She hopes she will be, but the vault’s small. Life had taught her to think practically however and… well, maybe this wasn’t practical. Butch though…he wasn’t so bad, even if he wasn’t practical. He made her laugh and was…well it was different when they were alone.

It bothered her a little, how close he kept their relationship to his chest. …her brother’s would kill him, or Stevie sure as hell would. In the deepest parts of her heart, she knew she was only using her friend. Using him to escape her brother- to escape her home. …Freddie Gomez crossed her mind more than once.

She… she’d thought about letting her feelings become more than just girlish chatter. More than a defensive turning away of her eyes or a superficial comment about how good looking, the Gomez boy had become. Then she thought of how broken she was and knew…if she had the choice, she couldn’t choice Federico. In a sense…she admired him enough, not to subject herself onto him. At least Butch had a chance to hold his own against her brothers… but The Freak clearly wasn’t a fighter.

If she were born a man, she thinks how much like her brothers she’d actually be. If she’d take what she wanted or did whatever the hell she liked, without regards for anyone. She’d already learned that you had to be a real bitch, just to keep your head above water. She was already like her brothers in a lot of ways- violent, vindictive, and one crazy chick to cross.

She likes the way Butch makes her feel though. He makes her feel like the only girl around…especially when they’re alone. He makes her feel… a little less damaged. A little less insane. The boy is… gentler than Stevie whenever they’re together.

He was her first kiss…outside of the family. Her breath leaves her in an angry shudder and her skin crawls. Some younger girls walk by her whispering and as they do, she scoffs at them, sneering. It’s enough to make their little prissy faces go white. Everyone knew what she’d done to Bradly Summers.

…she was the only one who really did though. Her family were the real black sheeps of 101. Not the Tunnel Snakes or The Blackwells…The Macks. Her father had blackmailed his way into the security force and Stevie was a shoe in just for being his son. Wally’s probably the only one who’d had enough of a brain, not to follow behind them.

Stevie most likely wasn’t the first of them to commit murder.

He was just the only one, who didn’t take much care in covering it up, or not for her benefit at least. They found his childhood friend, shoved into the gears of one of the trash compactors. Leave it to her to know the in’s and out’s of garbage duty. They crush it before they burn it, only the murderer didn’t even bother to burn the evidence. It was as if…he’d wanted everyone to see the results of human bones being grinded by the gears.

He wanted her to know why too…and that it **was** him. The day the news spread across the vault, he came to her smiling. She’s sure he thought it was a sweet gesture and his words were meant as a gift. _“…I know you hated him for just… watching us together that day. For not stopping me. …he knew better back then, though._ ” He’d had a possessive look on his face, which had actually terrified her. _“You’re mine now. You always have been and…I think that must have crushed him.”_ He’d laughed in their kitchen like he’d just told a fine joke, while she stood staring at him from the sink in horror.

She’d said nothing, but he just kept talking as he moved into her space. _“Did you both a favor- Brad didn’t fuckin’ know his place. –Nope, not for a long time. He had it coming.”_ He forced her chin into his fingers and all the while she had begged for their father to walk in. He never did though and Stevie’s sickness only proved far worse, than she’d have ever guessed. _“Now how about a kiss, sis? No one will ever try to take you from me, now that Brad ain’t around to tell.”_ She’d slammed her lips together as he’d kissed her, reminding her of a dead fish, pressing against her mouth, uncaring about her enjoyment of it at all. She’d learned to show him nothing and he’d see what he wanted.

Stevie was probably the most dangerous out of everyone in the vault. He was a monster no one even saw. Hiding in plain sight. She’d gripped the counter till she thought her fingernails were going to break. Her heart had hammered in her chest like a tumbler system in a broken door.

It was…better when he wasn’t violent, but she hated those softer moments more. She hated those moments, because she had just let them happen. At least if she came out with bruises, she still came out with her self-respect. Stevie was sick, but he hid it so well, that everyone couldn’t see the devil in him…but she did.

She saw it in him that day, when he pulled back and patted her cheek in some twisted brotherly fashion. When she saw him as a killer…and knew that he’d killed for her. She’d shivered at his words, which he put together along with that reptilian look in his eyes. “ _He may not have known his place…”_ Like the flip of a switch, he’d gripped a handful of her hair and she’d flinched. She let him bring her to her knees in their kitchen.

She feared he’d unzip his suit and that she’d be forced to service him right then and there, but no. That day, she realized he got off on being in charge. Stripping her control away had been enough and she hated… hated herself for letting him have it. Humiliated, he’d looked down at her…and his smile. Dear god…She knows she could have stomached a sneer far better than what he gave her.

A cruel smile or a sadistic glower would have been far more palatable, but no. Her brother looked **proud**. Whether of her or himself she had no clue, but Stevie…Stevie was **sick**. He’d patted her head and she felt numb. She pressed her anger, her fear, everything that made her who she was down deep, and his words stuck.  “… _but now… you sure as hell know yours. That’s a good girl.”_

…Butch might have a chance if their relationship ever became more than just sheer rumor. Freddie… she’d watched the boy from afar. She gave him the cold shoulder, while always feeling a biting curiosity about him. She’d taken glances at little poems he’d leave on sticky notes in class and she’d thought they were… well written. That Freak was a poet, not a fighter.

Butch fought every day and he did it with her 2nd oldest brother, just for fun. Their world was a currency ran on fear and domination. She and Christine learned that from a young age, when at a contest for macaroni art, The Overseer had given 1st place to a girl, who had later married up. Her parents had arranged for it and The Overseer was nothing, without his backers. You stay quiet and you listen, till you overhear something that you can use to you advantage.

If a girl’s giving you trouble, you plant evidence of them sleeping around and sooner or later, they’ve got bruises to prove it. The vault’s population was dwindling and she knew as good as any woman that, if you weren’t married by the time things truly got bad? There was sure to be another “Pairing Party”. Then your husband could be anyone and the little freedoms she had now, were only because she wasn’t. She’d seen what happened to girls, who’d been forced into marriage for the sake of the vault.

The history books could not hide the bruises she knew so well. Many women came and went before them and she knows her life’s small, in the grand scheme of things. Right now, she just wants to lick her wounds. Right now, she doesn’t want to think about her weakness and instead, she remembers the faces of those prissy girls walking by. She knew their route and Stevie had friends who could… show them the way home.

She’s done it more than once.

The girls she’s setup for it, for a wrong turn down an alley after curfew, they tend to be a lot quieter after. They learn what she already did a long time ago. Boys will be boys and the girls will be, whatever those boys deem them worthy enough to be. Those girls learn their places too. They learn they shouldn’t have called her a whore, or tried to spread a rumor about her, each time.

She sometimes gets a little philosophical and she guesses, that when you’re as fucked up as she is, your thoughts and schemes run as deep as your scars. …She doesn’t really love Butch. She’s using him. He makes her forget and he makes her laugh. She uses other people to keep her social standing afloat, just like she uses Butch to make her feel less worthless.

Because in the end, she’s weak and she hates it, fucking loathes herself.

She uses those girls as a means to end, so the next time security needs to blow off steam, it’s not her. You didn’t have to look too hard to see the corruption in their leadership and the women, they got it the worst. Unless you were like her…and you knew how to shed a little blood, so it wasn’t yours being spilled.

She’s not sure how long she’s been walking, but her mind’s been running in wild circles. _‘Butch, Butch, Butch… where is he? Where am I? When will this…ever end?”_  That’s not what other people see though, when they watch her go walking by. She carries herself haughtily, prideful, because she’s a Mack first and a woman 2 nd. She’s the one people come to, when they want to get in good with her brother. She’s the Mack, who settles things quietly and she doesn’t always use her fists.

That’s what makes her the deadliest out of her family. She’s bitter, she’s beautiful, and she and Christine know how to put on a smile. They joke with one another, she and Christine, about what _their_ gang name might be, if they were to start one. Growing up, it hadn’t seemed so serious, nothing did. She’s not sure where her childhood died, but she’ll never forget Brad…or that first time with Stevie.

Children were naïve…and she was no child.

When the curfew lights begin to dim, she checks her Pipboy. It’s barely 8:15 and she finds that odd. It’s an early curfew. The vault’s much darker after curfew…but she’s not afraid. Her brothers’ names come in handy and she never leaves without a butcher knife.

 A knife and a name, so she can stick it into someone’s back, should they test her.

Out of instinct, when she sees a blur coming out of a dark corridor to her right, she reacts. Her knife leaves her pocket and her eyes surely shine wildly, her smile warped and savage. She catches her would be assailant by surprise and just short of slitting his throat, he’s squealing at her. “SIS! C-Come on! I was just trying to scare you!” She’d mistaken him for Stevie for a moment. Her heart rushes with relief, which she doesn’t express.

To an outsider looking in, her voice is perfect ice and her smile is one of enjoyment. “You’re sorry for that now right?” Wally scoffs and his eyes mirror hers. Calculating and cold. His voice wavers a little, because she drew blood on the knife. “I’m sorry. So relax.” She could slit his throat right now.

There’s a rush that fills her at the thought and it comforts her. He’d deserve it if she did. Her insides quiver and go numb. She’d never hurt Wally…and she’s not that far gone yet. She presses it closer and presses him, just to tease him as the blood trickles down his neck. “Say it like you mean it, or I won’t believe you.”

Wally’s eyes fill with fear and she adores it, when his voice shakes. “Ok ok! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She lets up on the knife, just in time to watch Wally sneer. Her shoves her wrist away and twists her around, snarling. “Like you would!” She glares at the floor, caught from behind by her brother. The only brother that feels like family to her.

Wally’s bigger than her and he’s got his arms around her in a way, which keeps her from using her weapon on him. Their family thrives on violence, but she knows that if she ever had to… she could kill him alright. She could kill her father, her mother, or even Wally… but those are the pieces of her heart, she refuses to admit, scare her and disgust her. Her family preys on people, destroys them mind and body, by feeding on their weakness. So this dance her and Wally are doing, is really how Mack’s show affection.

He belittles her, because strong people like them, like her family, can take a few mean names. “Cunt!” Susie chokes playfully, sticking her tongue out, when her brother holds her throat with the palm of his hand. She elbows him with her free arm, hard as she can and he lets her go. She turns on her heel and crosses her arms, watching him wheeze. She’s not really sure what love is, but she knows what to do, to help her forget how hateful **life** is for her.

Her brother’s temper flares. “You…you got to the count of three!” She stands firm, shoving the kitchen knife into her pocket again. She digs her claws into him, because she knows that it’s not her sheer brute force Wally’s afraid of. “You’ve got to be kidding.” Everyone’s afraid of Wally. Except for people just like him, who are just as brutal… and she’s just like her brothers in many ways.

Wally gets to his feet and crosses his arms, needling her about being out alone. “Yeah? Well **you** better tell me real quick, why you’re sneaking around in the dark, ‘for I get mean?” That’s how he and Stevie were different. Wally actually cared about her… or so she wanted to believe.  She feels his hands fall on her shoulders and he leans down, scowling. He says something that annoys her immensely… she really didn’t want to see any more of her family tonight. “You better not be sneaking over to someone’s bed…I’ll kill whoever’s laying hands on you! Not on my watch –You know you’re too young right? I’ve been hearing shit I shouldn’t be, Susie!”

He shakes her a little and her brother is overprotective… and he’s so damn dumb, it just pisses her off. “-It better not be, Butch! Is it, Butch?! I’ll kill him!” Suzie sneers, rage blooming in her chest, her face flushing red. Wally doesn’t know shit, but she knows he’s not lying about kicking someone’s teeth in. He’s tearing down their family name, faster than she ever could anyway and she says as much. “You’re not my keeper, _Wallace_. I can be out late just like you.” She thumps him hard in the chest, knocking him back, while hissing at him vindictively. “Unlike you, I’m smart enough not to get thrown into lock up whenever **I** go out. Pa’s going to kick you out at best if you’re lucky. You’re going to be black and blue if he finds _you_ out again, with your dumb **gang**.”

Susie’s chest is hollow and the lie comes easy. “If you have to know, I was **going** to **_Christy’s_** … ” She narrows her eyes, because curfew has come much earlier tonight. She suspects her brother has something to do with that too. …Or one of them anyway. Stevie did like making reasons to hunt in the dark.

Susie wants to get away from Wally as soon as possible. She just can’t keep up appearances much longer tonight. Wally’s smart with other people, but with her? He’s clueless about what goes on in her head, but he’s so pigheaded, she thinks he just likes the sound of his own voice when he says, “-Do I look stupid to you? The Kendal’s are back the other way.” She threatens him, because he was certainly rushing away from what looks to be the **Overseer’s Office**. “-Curfew got called early tonight, right? And you were in such a hurry… is that paint on your hands?”

Her smile’s full of daggers and Wally’s shoving his hands in his jacket. He’s opening his mouth to back talk at her, but she’s in his face, at the end of her rope. “It’d be a shame to tell Dad, where I saw you coming from tonight… especially if you just _happened_ to be in the Overseer’s office, alone. I think… didn’t Pa say security was sanctioned for corporal punishment recently?” Her brother’s jaw tightens and there’s something violent in his eyes, but also wounded. She really feels nothing for him at the moment however. …he didn’t have any right to tell her what she was _too young_ for.

She lost her childhood ages ago.

She drills it in with a fake smile and lethally sweet small talk. “Come to think of it, Pa was sure excited. Isn’t that fascinating? I think he mentioned it at breakfast. Maybe we should go find him and ask him-“Wally lunges for her wrist suddenly, seizing it and squeezing it painfully. She welcomes the pain, because it’s the only way he’s gotten her to feel something, since he ambushed her. She’s not afraid…if anything she’d embrace him lashing out.

He’d never hit her before…and something about that hurt even worse. Maybe she felt like she deserved it? Maybe…she just felt nauseous when her gangster of a brother, ever tried to preach “ethics” to her. He had no right…and no idea. He leans down into her face, but she just smiles wide, sweet like arsenic. “So maybe tonight the Kendal’s are this way tonight and maybe I didn’t see you at all? Doesn’t that sound like a better story, Wally?”

 Her brother scoffs, snarling. “You’re such a bitch! I’m just looking out for you!” He lets go of her wrist and she petulantly tears it away. “Yeah, you better look out for me next time or you might not see me coming, _Wallace_.” She huffs at him, crossing her arms, making her lie more believable…because her brother has a soft spot, which she’s gotten very good at taking advantage of. “…and if you have to know, the projector room _is_ this way and Christine and I were going to watch a movie tonight. We haven’t had a night to ourselves. It’s really none of your business.” She watches her brother’s shoulders loose some of their tension. His voice less hostile. “…why the hell couldn’t you have just lead with that?”

He shrugs, reminding her of when they were little and he didn’t feel like cooperating with her. “-Still doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t be out in the dark…alone.” She opens her mouth to tell him to lay off her, but he beats her to the punch. “-You’re my little sister. That makes you my problem.” She scoffs derisively. “It’s not **my** fault the lights went down earlier than they should have.” Her mind’s in a fog and this whole conversation, has just felt like her going through the motions. She turns her back on him and her face goes blank, as soon as her back is turned.

She hears the cold in her voice and Wally does too… he picks it up, she’s sure. “Don’t wait up for me tonight. Run home before you get caught.” Wally knows well enough not to walk after her. She hears his boots go pattering off down the way she came. She was caught off guard by him and it allowed her relief from being stuck in her own head. It was true for everyone else…just like it was for Stevie.

People saw what they wanted to see…and she was good at smiling, even when she didn’t feel it inside.

There’s tears stinging her eyes, because Wally didn’t have a goddamn clue…

…and she couldn’t bear to see her family tear itself apart, if he ever did get one.

*(&^(^(&*^(&^*%*(&^%^&^*(%*(&^(^(&*^(&^*%*(&^%^&^*(%*(&^(^(&*^(&^*%*(&^%^&^*(%*(&^(^(&*^(&^*%*(&^%^&^*(%*(&^(^(&*^(&^*%*(&^%^&^*(%*(&^(^(&*^(&^*%*(&^%^&^*(%*(&^(^(&*^(&^*%*(&^%^&^*(%*(&^(^(&*^(&^*%*(&^%^&^*(%

She’d looked everywhere for him today…and where did she find him?

Leaning right up against the corner of the corridor that lead to his dorm.

He had a cigarette in his mouth too.

She told him how much she hated the taste of-

_-He tastes vile. Her brother’s kiss had the taste of smoke and blood. Blood, because he’d backhanded her to make her submit and busted her lip. Smoke, because her brother had a filthy habit. He tasted of blood… her own flesh and blood.-_

-she curses at him…no matter how cool he looks.

Before she’d caught him, Butch was oblivious. He had his cigarette hanging from his lip and his hands in his jacket pockets. He was spaced out… thinking or just blissfully existing, she wasn’t sure. His black hair was always perfect, like his teeth and his smile. All the girls wanted him… she being the lucky one who’d caught his eye, finally.

She didn’t feel lucky right then though. She felt like she’d walked and walked for miles, just to find him doing the one thing, which she forbade him from doing. He could stay out way too late and she didn’t have to know where he was. He could even go ahead and sleep around if he wanted, just as long as she was his favorite. But smoking?

She’d told him over and over, how much she hated the taste. Why the fuck would he **do** this to her? Did he give a damn about her at all? At the sight of her, he has the gall to smile that bright smile of his at her. “Lookin’ good, Susie-Q…” He’s snickering like he’s…she’s stalking toward him, feeling… just so betrayed, by that damn lit cigarette.

Her voice.

It comes out.

It comes out unhinged.

“Butchie…what’s that…in your hand?”

She feels her lips trembling, anger boiling, eyeing that foul smoke with daggers.

He doesn’t even know what she’s talking about, till he …its lazy how he acknowledges his mistake.

He’s shrugging off the wall and scowling, still holding that filthy habit in his fingers. “Shit…awe, come on Suz. I’m trying to quit!” She does ask him for that much, honesty. Actually no. She doesn’t really ask him for anything. Not even the truth.

She doesn’t ask where he goes, when he’s out late with her 2nd oldest brother. She doesn’t ask him to stay faithful or about the girls she hears him talking about. She doesn’t expect anything from Butch and she’s just damn near grateful. She’s just thankful that out of all the girls in 101, the King of The Tunnel Snakes, he picked her. It’s a childish feeling… to be thankful for just being picked by someone like him.

He’s handsome and he’s strong…and he gives her that “normal” feeling.

There’s only one thing though. One thing she’s ever asked of him. She didn’t ask it lightly and she didn’t really ask him anything ever again after that. She asked him, when he had a hand down her shirt and she actually didn’t hate the feeling, for the first time. _“Oh…Butchie…could you not smoke those things? Mm…the smell turns me off.”_ She’d cringed that day, when he’d breathed his promise into her ear, clumsily. _“Huh? What? Uh, yeah-yeah sure…whatever you want!”_

She knew he didn’t mean it. She reminded him after though. She stopped him from putting his hand down her pants and told him she meant it. He’d groaned and rolled his eyes. He’d put his hand on his chest, raised his right hand and said woodenly. _“I solemnly swear on my leather, that I’ll try to fuckin’ quit. Tunnel Snakes’ honor.”_

He’d made her laugh. Sometimes he could be a little ridiculous. If he wasn’t so well-known and handsome, she might even call him a goofball. She’d never say that though. He’d said it, with his hands back in her vault suit, smiling. _“There, happy? Believe me now?”_

So when he throws those words back in her face, taking another puff of that cigarette, she snaps.

“You believe me dontcha?”

She can’t even believe him, not even a little.

She feels cold in her heart. He’s blowing the smoke out to the side and maybe he thinks he looks cool. To her though…he’s just starting to look a lot like her eldest brother. Her feet are moving with grace and lethality, or so she hopes they are. Butch’s looking at her, scowling.

She’s never felt this way with him before. She’s been angry at him, of course she has. Not like this though. There’s bones snapping painfully into place or that’s how it feels inside her ribcage. She’s standing toe to toe with him and she feels it burning in her summer green eyes.

Tears.

She cries to get her way sometimes. She’s not ashamed to admit that. …not this time though. She likes to think, that even, in those moments of feigned despair, that she’s still got the power. Not these tears though.

These tears aren’t hers…they’re Butch Deloria’s as far as she’s concerned. His fault. His problem. His face looks bored…and she knows she shouldn’t cause a scene so late at night. To hell with that though, this is the last straw.

She does something she’s never done before.

She slaps him.

Open palmed and proper, she hits him hard enough to make his head jerk.

His eyes widen and when he turns, his face is full of surprise.

Her words feel…out of place. “Look what you made me do…”

They almost feel like Stevie’s.

She sobs, putting a hand to her mouth. She swallows the sound quickly and takes a step away, her hand falling off her mouth, dangling at her side. She doesn’t want this arrangement to continue, if he’s not fun anymore. If he’s just another pair of hands like her brother’s…well she gets enough of that at home. She shudders out a sigh and looking at the ground, she goes to leave him and never look back again. “…It’s the only thing I ever asked you. …you…you never asked why. Guess the joke’s on me, for thinking I could ask you for things.”

She’s standing there solidly, because that’s what Mack’s do. They stand solid and they don’t let their guard down. She’s only half a Mack right then. She looks up in time, to hear him sigh, clearly annoyed…but he can tell she’s not herself. He flicks his cigarette out of his hand and crushes it beneath his boot.

She’s not sure why, she didn’t leave. She didn’t really want to stay, but leaving was even more distasteful to her. She didn’t want to go home like this. She’d been looking for Butch all day…and she didn’t want to give up on finding him. When his hands fall on her shoulders, she doesn’t expect to flinch.

Mack’s don’t flinch.

She smells the smoke on his breath and her tears fall faster. Butch may not be the smartest person in the vault, but she didn’t care about that. He made her laugh and he killed time with her. That night, he tilted up her face into his hand and he seemed to make something die in her. She’s not sure what, but she was glad to bury it.

He rarely talked sweet in front of people, especially when regarding her. Whenever they were alone though, he was actually a lot more respectful, than anyone gave him credit for. So when his face went all worried and soft like it did, her anger twisted up and died. His voice buried her rage and his words brought something to the surface, she’d tried all day to forget. “Hey, hey now…hey shh, come on, I ain’t mad. Don’t fuckin, cry…what’s wrong?” Her voice cracks and her nose catches the smell again. “…T-the smoke…I can’t handle it…”

She hears him growl and he takes her into his arms like a bear. She’d read about bears…she actually really liked them. She had a teddy bear at night she used to hold, before Stevie cut it up. She can hear how her tears make him uncomfortable. Maybe he was only so gentle, so she wouldn’t draw security’s attention…but she’d needed that side of him.

Butch didn’t judge her. Butch didn’t expect much out of her, other than what every other man did. At least he was honest about it. He was still so keen on waiting though… he’d never gone farther than with his fingers. Her arms pull him closer, clutching at his back and his chin was on the crown of her head.

His voice was quiet, his hands petting down her hair. “…Shh, hey…come on inside will ya? You’re gonna wake the damn neighbors.” She’s a brat. That much she knows for sure. She was raised up a spoiled brat and so, even though she can barely speak, she can still spite him. “Good!” He’s not asking her questions…and she’s thankful for it.

Butch wasn’t the smartest guy in the vault…but he knew what to say sometimes. He groans, getting frustrated with her. “Damn it, I wasn’t lying! That do anything for ya? Jeez…just stop crying…shut up, huh?” The words aren’t gentle and are more for him than for her. She doesn’t care though…they help her calm herself. She’s catching her breath, hiccupping.

She’s always a lot less selfish when it comes to Butch- anything to keep him from losing interest. She feels him let go first, but she stays there…holding onto him. She needs this. She needs normal and she wants to forget, what she came here for. She just wants to forget today.

His arms are at his sides and she’s still there. Clinging to him. It wants to creep up on her, that ironically, it’s a perfect description of their relationship. She holds onto him, he lets go, she clings and flatters him. She does everything to keep him in her life, but only because she wants him there, to help her forget.

She hears him sigh… he’s frustrated with her. She hears it, but she doesn’t care tonight. Usually, she’s quiet and she’s sweet…she does everything he wants. She rides along with him at the wheel of their friendship, just happy to be along for the ride. When he pats the back of her head awkwardly, she lets herself release him.

She sniffles and he’s not looking at her. When he talks, his hands are in his pockets and his eyes are on the hall to his front door. “…Ya wanna come in? Stay a while?” She’s looks up at him and digs her heels in about getting her way for moment, silently in her mind. Then…it hits her that nothing’s really “her” way completely. She doesn’t even love Butch…she just loves, that sometimes he asks her what _she_ wants.

In little things and small ways…he’s the only one who does.

He asks her if she wants him to buy her lunch. He asks her if she wants to talk after work. He asks her if his hands feel good and he asks her if he should stop. He asks. He gives her options and he never forces her to be with him.

If she left him, she’s pretty sure he wouldn’t ask her to stay though. That’s why being with him feels…safe. She can leave if she wants. It’s not an obligation to either of them. It’s just… a way to kill time.

It’s not perfect and he doesn’t always know where to put his hands. It’s not love and she wouldn’t be heartbroken, if she caught him with someone else. She’s actually counting the days, till one of her brother’s catches them…because that’s when things will probably end. It’ll be too much trouble to be with him then. As selfish as it sounds…Butch is a convenience for her.

She’s not sure what she feels, sitting there on his living room couch, once she’s sitting there on it.

It feels a lot more than just “convenient” right then. He went the fridge and got her a beer. Told her she looked like she needed it and then walked off to brush his teeth. His house was dark…but it was always clean. She forgets what she came for.

She forgets…but it all comes back-

_-His hands are wrong. His breath dirt and ashes. His eyes like hers and their mother’s… but sick. She wants him to stop- but he won’t. She wants, Butch…she wants to run…she wants to die-_

-She almost jumps, when Butch tosses his arm around her. He hits the couch heavily next to her. The weight of his arm is both intrusive and yet…it’s warm. She sighs wearily. She’s tired.

She feels his eyes on her, but doesn’t look at him…she just drinks her beer. His arm gingerly curls closer around her shoulders…his fingertips ghosting over her breast. She almost smiles, because it’s familiar. It’s quiet in Butch’s Livingroom…surreal. The pilot light above the stove, gives off this clinical blue glow.

It’s the only light in the house that’s on.

It feels like another world or maybe, like everything outside of them, is just gone. She doesn’t have to think…yet when he leans over, her brother’s shadow still haunts her. He whispers into her ear, low and… and it’s not shaky or really passionate, when he says it to her. “Wanna fool around?” The words are words she’s used to from him, because that’s what he ends up asking her. She does.

She wants to…but instead of kissing him like she should, she takes another drink.

They don’t talk about her brothers. They never talk about her brothers. She’s never talked about them with Butch. They’re dating, but there are things they don’t share. She doesn’t talk about her brothers and he doesn’t talk about his mother or who his father was.

They’ll sit with an old movie sometimes. Sometimes they’ll bitch about work to each other or she’ll offer to blow him and he’ll light up like a kid with a new toy. He’ll invite her over to fool around and they don’t talk about the hard stuff. Their relationship’s easy, because of everything they **don’t** share…it’s hollow in a way. So when she opens her mouth and the words slip out, she knows it’s a step they’ve never taken before. “…Stevie smokes.”

She knows already…that Butch knows about her and Stevie.

He sees the bruises on her skin.

The first time he saw them he didn’t know what to say.

She just said her brother’s name and he slipped her vault-suit back on.

He asked her if she wanted to come over and that day, he just held her…and they watched a movie.

Sometimes, it almost looks like he’s on the verge of asking her about it- the bruises. But he knows already. That’s why he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t ask, because that’s a love they don’t share. In a way though… she thinks they must love each other.

In a displaced kind of way.

So when he leans away, the way he curses for her… it’s as close to love, as they’ll probably ever get. “…Shit.” She feels how uncomfortable he is beside her, but just takes another sip of her beer. Maybe it’s too strong or maybe, today was finally too much for her to take. Either way, she’s pulling on him and she never really _pulls_ on him. That’s why they work together.

They don’t pull on each other. They just kill time and they have fun. They drink and they fool around…but they sure as hell don’t talk. Not very often. He’s moving his hand up to clasp her shoulder and…well that means more to her, than he probably knows.

She feels vulnerable tonight. She feels cold too…but she knows Butch is warm. Her words aren’t like her usual ones. They are weak and girlish…genuinely broken. Her voice, leaves fresh wounds reopening inside her chest. “Where were you today?”

He doesn’t answer her immediately. He sighs pretty heavily though. It’s like she slapped him again. His grip is gentle on her shoulder and that’s what she likes about him the most. He’s gentle when he touches her…which is odd for how big he is.

Part of her hates him for it actually. He touches her like she’ll break…and that’s how she knows, that her oldest brother’s still there between them. It hangs over them like a bloody knife. A crime that’s committed every day, which neither of them wants to confess to. It’s ugly and it never goes away.

So they never talk about it, because it’s never going to change.

He tugs her closer against him and when he speaks against her temple, her heart flutters. His voice…has never sounded like that before. “…I’m here right now…” He’s hardly ever cried in front of her. Usually, he’s drunk off his ass and she is too, if he ever starts crying in front of her. That night, when his quiet living room, had felt like a castle away from her troubles, she heard it in his voice.

The tremble he might have gotten, if he was about to cry.

He got it for her. It both meant something sweet to her, but also bitter. It felt like pity…and she hated pity. She finishes her beer and her breath shakes.

She laughs, because if she doesn’t, she might cry again. They don’t cry though…and they don’t share tears unless they’ve been drinking. They kill time. So when she turns to him, his mouth’s there, almost pressed against her own. When she smells his breath, the smoke’s gone and she’s thankful.

She says it against his mouth, the closest to pleading with him, that’s she’s ever gotten. “…please… let me take it tonight?” His eyes are hazy in the blue pilot light. She sees shadows in them and without asking, she places her palm between his legs and he looks conflicted. She knows deep down why he always says no. She knows he feels dirty being with her…like he’s getting dirt on his hands.

But…she knows how to touch him. She knows what to say and she doesn’t care how he feels- if he feels guilty. She presses her mouth up against his and his mouth feels…he kisses back. That’s all. It feels good… but she still feels empty.

When she breaks the kiss, she rubs her palm into him. Her words are a manipulation, but…they aren’t a lie. “I want it tonight…” She searches his face and he looks… his lips are parted, in a grim line. It’s like he wants to say no again…but she knows how to make men weak. So, she says it again…because as much as she wants to believe she’s in control tonight…she knows she’s desperate. “…give it to me, Butchie.”

His breath catches and she feels his fingers falling. She feels his control snapping…and yet, it’s not enough. His fingers linger, shaking on her collarbone and his eyes look guilty. She feels his other hand on her wrist and once again…the tone of his voice is ready to deny her. “Susana…” She can’t take it tonight… his rejection.

He used to call her that when they were in kindergarten. “Susana”. He liked giggling it and she’d liked him talking to her. She’d play kinderblocks with him and they’d stack then…then she’d laugh as he knocked them down. Now, when he calls her name, she knows he’s just trying to soften the blow.

She hates her name, when he says it to her, with pity dripping off of it.

She’s never let herself, lose control of herself like this. In that moment, for just a moment… maybe she really did just love Butch and no one else. She loved him, because he made her forget herself. He never tried to put her in her place and he never held onto her too tight. When tears come for her that night, they’re real on that couch.

They’re hers.

She’s not sure how she looked to him, that night on his couch, but she knows how she felt. She’d have done anything…just for him to make her forget the day. Her voice wasn’t coy and her smile wouldn’t come back, after he started with her name. “…please…” Her tears fell down her cheeks and Butch was helpless against them most of the time. That time though, it was like she’d forced him to watch them.

She forced them on him.

She broke him with words, which she never wanted to use. Words that were taboo between them and that were the shamelessness of defeat. She begged him to. With her hand trembling against his crotch, she begged him. “…make me forget…please…just make me forget about him…” There wasn’t love in his eyes…but there was consent and affection.

There was something in them, which she hadn’t seen before. She honestly couldn’t say what he was thinking then either. She just knows, that when he let go of her wrist, that it wasn’t perfect like the movies. When his hand brushed away her tears, it was everything she’d been looking for all day. It was wrong…and yet it was ok.

It was real.

She’d never have considered herself a virgin…but with Butch, maybe it felt close to it for a second. He’d sighed like she’d burdened him, but he didn’t say no to her. Instead, he kissed her forehead like they were children again. He said it so quiet, that she wouldn’t have heard him, if he was any farther away. “…ok…ok, I can do that…” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

He didn’t say I love you. He didn’t say it before…or after…or even during. He’d kissed her softly though and he let her get him up. He’d kissed her carefully and when his hands found her breasts, it felt like he was trying harder than ever to make it feel good. It was still clumsy, but she liked that. She’s the one who lead him into his own bedroom by the hand…he’s the one who let her take the lead.

They stripped out of their vault-suits and when she turned around, he was blushing. He wasn’t smiling. She noticed him staring at her chest and she took off her shirt, without a word. She’s not sure if he really wanted it to happen, but maybe that’s why he looked so reluctant. It’s probably because, he didn’t love her either.

That was why, he only gave in, because she’d begged him…he didn’t want to hurt her.

He didn’t love her, but he cared about her enough, to give her what she wanted.

She knew that. She’s not sure how, but maybe that’s just because, she was always practical. She was using him. Even if he was her friend… she was still using him. Maybe he knew that, somewhere in his heart and that’s why, he’d always say, _“-I’m just savoring the chase! What’s the rush?”_

Maybe he never wanted to get caught by her.

She remembers having to place his hands on her breasts. He’d been staring at them really hard, but he didn’t come closer till she did. His palms were warm and when he leaned down to kiss her, he was all tongue. She moaned more for him than herself…even if his kiss was pleasant. She trailed her hands up his arms and it felt nice…till she closed her eyes and she saw her brother again.

She broke the kiss and pushed the thought out of her mind violently.

Taking his face into her hands, she began to memorize it. Butch had the kind of eyes, which made girls swoon over a single look, her included. There were none like his in the entire vault and the thought helped. His hair was dark and always slicked up, like he just rolled out of bed looking that good. He always looked good, like something warm she could really enjoy curling up with.

He looked nothing like her brother…and she felt comforted by that.

She helped him with his t-shirt and when they made it to his bed, he stood there, kissing her beside it. His hands literally _squeezing_ her breasts and hers locked around his neck at her leisure. His motions were shaky and she could tell he was nervous on some level. She was too. Not nervous enough to cure the cold in her chest though.

She wanted to forget. His hands weren’t like Stevie’s at all. Butch was clumsy and warm, curious. She pushed him onto the bed without any hesitation or doubt, as he hit it. He’d laughed for the first time, cracking a smile when she got on her knees between his thighs. “Geez…you really want it, huh?”

She can’t help but smile, because it feels rehearsed. She’s sliding his boxers down his hips, watching him go stone faced, while she tugs the dark grey cotton down his thighs. She plays her part, his boxers forgotten around his ankles. “…yeah. I want it bad…” She likes how his face looks…because it’s not how **his** face looks. She’s in control even on her knees and when she starts blowing him, he swears. “…awe fuck …”

It’s not love, but it’s not rejection.

It feels wrong, but it’s too nice for her to stop.

She keeps her eyes on his face, while she sucks and fists him in her hand. She doesn’t really care what he’s thinking, but she knows by his expression, that she’s doing it right. The way he looks at her…she could almost pretend they were in love. Almost. Her heart’s racing and this is…it’s fun.

It’s never really been fun for her before.

When he shoves lightly at her shoulder, he’s out of breath and blunt. “Ok…ok, ‘m ready.” She nods at him. She’d never shut her eyes for longer than a blink. She wants to forget and as long as she knows who she’s with, she will. She’s in control and Butch… she trusts him more than anyone else really.

She really doesn’t trust anybody though. This consent is the closest thing to trust, that she can really identify with willingly. She knew he’d stop if she asked, because he’s not the one who’s been pushing for this. She doesn’t want to stop though and she’s not asking him to. When she gets to her feet, she takes off her pink panties and crawls onto his bed.

She lays on her back, dragging her hand across his arm as she goes, inviting him to join her. His eyes have been on her body the entire time. She doesn’t want to see what’s behind the lust. She doesn’t want to see his regret. She’s not sure she wants to think about her own.

She’s sure that she wants him to kiss her though. He’s sure of that too. So when he crawls on top of her, she pulls his mouth down for another kiss…and he’s the only one out of the two of them, who closes his eyes. She doesn’t dare. In that moment, she sees his ceiling past his face and thinks idly about the dents in the steel.

She wonders about what he’d tossed up there to dent it.

…but then, it hits her, that his chest is against hers and his belly is too. He doesn’t move or try to take her…he just stays there and works his way down her jaw, in no rush at all. He’s warm…and he smells like peaches. He’s gentle and it makes her…feel something, which she’s not sure she ever has before. She feels good.

Her breath starts to get erratic and she feels her control slipping. Fear comes out of that lack of control and she calls his name without thinking. His breath hovers over her breast at the sound. “Butch.” His breath catches and he jerks his head up immediately. Her heart flutters again… the feeling, leaving her a little sick to her stomach.

He looks nothing like Stevie.

…But it’s his tender, very “Butch-like” expression, that’s twisting her up into knots. He asks her like he’s afraid of this feeling too- like he felt it too, the moment they were both naked for the first time together. “-what’d I do? You still into this?” She doesn’t know what to say to that. …he just makes her laugh right there, a sharp silly snort, which leaves her blushing. She answers quickly, faster than she can think about it or feel shy about her graceless laugh. “Yeah. Keep going.”

That’s why she feels sick. She’s into this. She’s into him… she’s into a place she’s never travelled. She wants this. It hurts to want this…it hurts so good.

He smiles for a second, his breath hot when it leaves him. She likes the way his skin feels. It’s warm. He’s warm. …the cold starts to melt.

He kisses her breasts, like he’s finally giving into whatever this is and she feels it, deep in her belly. His hands cover her in places, which he hasn’t ever gone and she’d thought, she’d know what it would feel like. It’s more intense tonight between them, than it’s ever been. Maybe it’s the beer or the pain of the day, but that night, Butch was the cure for it all. He was everything that night that she needed- and she’d needed to forget.

When he kissed her, it was soft.

When he was hard in his hand, teasing her with his tip and asking her, “…can I put it in?” She answered him, out of breath and wildly aroused, “Yes.” And then inch by inch, her perception on what the moment would be like, when she finally took his virginity, broke apart. It was not like before. It was not like anything she’d ever felt.

It was twisted and wonderful…beautiful in that moment, when he was literally, “one body and one breath” with her.

His body was strong and so different compared to- she places the thought aside and it’s a lot easier for her. Or rather he knocks it out of her and she can’t think of anything at all. When he rocks into her, there’s intimacy which they’ve never shared before. It’s powerful and new…and it’s the elephant in the room. It was enough for her.

She didn’t need to ask him, for anything else ever again.

It was not love, but when she closed her eyes…Butch was all that she could see. Butch was all she felt. Butch’s hands, his nervous jitters, his blind pleasure, his stuttery little moans. It was all Butch. There was nothing else.

He finished before her of course. He was shivering and embarrassed…and then, he did something, which no one else had even done for her. Before she could tell him it was fine, he’d rolled onto his side to face her. Then…without a word, he put his fingers inside her, like it was the natural thing to do. He finished her like that…with a patient pace and by listening to her voice.

…He wasn’t done with her, till she was done too. She was speechless, as he panted against her neck and curled his fingers, just like she’d taught him. Her heart hammering inside of her, like he’d been moments before. She’d unraveled for him and when she came, it terrified her. It terrified her and overwhelmed her…and she found a side of Butch, that she couldn’t bear to face.

Because, for all of his bloody knuckled moments, Butch was much kinder than her… or her brothers. She felt something like fondness for him swell that night, which scared her. When he took that time to give her pleasure, she had an odd feeling, like she’d taken something that wasn’t hers. She felt it in her very bones. She wouldn’t be able to deny how…softhearted he actually was, not after he did that.

When he gave more, than she’d ever been given in bed before.

…She’d only ever had cruelty to compare him to.

She wouldn’t be able to forget what _he_ gave to her that night…because she’d begged. She popped his cherry and though, she hadn’t cared if it was special… it was something alright. It was wrong and it wasn’t love… but it took her to a better place. She didn’t have to think or remember anything, which she didn’t feel in the moment. …but in the final moments before she went to sleep, she felt it.

She’d stolen something from the boy beside her.

…Because Macks, were selfish. She’d pushed and manipulated her way into his bed. She took advantage of him and she…well guilt was something she never felt. She felt it for Butch that night though…just then. Then…she fell asleep.

And she didn’t have to think at all…and she didn’t dream either.

 

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When she woke up, she was in his bed.

Alone.

She didn’t feel sad and she didn’t feel angry.

She felt better.

…because she didn’t have to face him the next morning and that felt like a kindness.

She did find a note on his nightstand, scrawled in his oddly elegant handwriting. Telling her that, “he wouldn’t be home till late” and for her “not to wait for him”. He said she could shower if she wanted to. He ended the note with, “See you later, Suzie-Q…you really charmed my snake last night, baby. I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow. You rule.” and a silly doodle of a snake. He never invested much…but he always knew how to make her smile.

And he always gave her enough.

She was walking to work afterwards, to help Mr. Brotch grade homework. She didn’t return home and she used Butch’s shower, just to avoid her own. She held her head higher that day and felt… better for a while. She did pass the barbershop on her way. Butch was giving some older man, who was from the level beneath them, a buzz-cut… when she waved at him.

He looked up at her and he smiled back.

He was chewing gum while he grinned her way, before he went back to working.

…he never did smoke another cigarette again after that.

What they had wasn’t love, but their friendship mattered.

It was the only thing she’d asked for- for him to quit smoking…but that wasn’t true.

He gave her so much more that night, more than she asked for.

No…she’d begged him and he couldn’t say no. Maybe it was the only “I love you” he had in him. When he quit smoking for her. In the end, she had to return to her home life and she couldn’t stay with Butch forever. She’d have to sleep under the same roof, with Stevie and he’d take from her…because Mack’s took what they wanted.

They never asked.

Butch always asked…and if she ever got used to that, she knew she couldn’t face the truth. She always took from him. She took when she wanted to and whatever he’d give her…because she really didn’t love him. Maybe that’s why she’d only ever asked the one thing of him...because if she loved him, she wouldn’t have ever asked him for anything at all. She knew what she was stealing in the end.

She knew it wasn’t hers to take either. His time or his body. That’s why she never thought of Freddie. Because, if you care about a person enough, sometimes you know you’re better out of their life. Butch…she cared about him, but not enough to stay away from him.

She knew she didn’t love him. She knew that he didn’t love her. She’d never said though, that she knew for sure…that he couldn’t ever fall for her. She never wanted to think about it. She only hoped he never would.

That thought always terrified her. That one day, she’d forget her place in the vault. She’d forget who she was and she’d try to ask too much. She’d ask too much out of the childhood friend, which she clung to. She’d ask him into a loveless marriage and she knew, he might even say yes.

If she begged him to save her from Stevie…he just might. That’s why she never talked about it. It was better that way. She knew how to shed a little blood, so it wasn’t hers. She knew just what not to share, to keep Butch from leaving her.

She can’t bear the thought of marrying him, because it would be the most selfish thing she’d ever done- at least in **her** mind.

Or worse…he’d say no. Her life was a mess as it was and Butch…he made her forget.

If she lost him before she was done, she just might lose her mind. His touch left all of the rest of her far away and he was her way of coping. He let her escape and made her forget who she was…and she was a Mack first and a woman second. That was the name, which she longed to one day be free from.

…But Stevie, always knew how to put her back in her place.

And that wouldn’t change…not for a very long time.

**End**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 10/24/2017: Been editing things as I go. Just a few commas and spelling errors fixed.
> 
> Just Another Note: Literally...I can't believe how many hits I get. Or comments that are positive...or kudos...you guys who read and comment, light up my world! Every Kudos I get, literally gives me a reason to keep trying at life. XD One day, it might be nice to take up donations...gosh. This gives me hope that I could actually support myself one day with one good book and with one good editor. You guys give me hope and I'm overjoyed, that everyone is so supportive here...just thank you!
> 
> Thank you everyone who even reads my stories all the way through. OwO


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